There are Two Types of Fans
by am1thirteen
Summary: In a world where Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes only existed in fictional literatures, John Watson met a man with all the superior abilities above normal human and mysteries for a past. Inspired by Man of Steel. Crossovers won't extend beyond some references without any of the characters from MoS present. (Pairing: Sherlock/John)
1. Chapter 1

THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF FANS

_Prologue_

Summary: _in a world where Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes only existed in fictional literatures, John Watson met a man with all the superior abilities above normal human and mysteries for a past._

Note: inspired by Man of Steel, combined with STiD's Khan. Crossovers won't extend beyond some references without any of the characters present. For plot purposes, all the characters are ten years younger.

The pub was reasonably crowded, being a Wednesday; middle of the week. Most people would have still been in the game for their respective jobs, having gotten over the hateful Monday and resigned Tuesday, but not John Watson. For him, every weekday is a Monday.

"So," asked the flirty blonde with the lips. "What do you do again?"

John brought the almost empty beer bottle to his lips, buying himself a few seconds before mustering up a smooth-sounding reply. "I'm a doctor." He clears his throat, thin lips curled up slightly. "A GP actually. I work at a small clinic nearby."

"Oh, that's nice," the giggly brunette brushed against his arm not so subtly. "Which clinic exactly? I don't suppose you can do my... _physical_?"

John turned to the bartender, waving his empty bottle over his head. "More beers for these lovely ladies, if you don't mind."

The well-dressed man behind the counter threw him a vaguely unimpressed look before proceeding to whip out a couple of coasters and serving the new batch of Guinness with practiced ease. His movements were almost too fast for John's eyes to track. It was sort of amazing. To have been so good at what he did, he must have enjoyed his job; something John could only consider a luxury.

"John?"

John froze, his breath caught in his throat. The voice was familiar.

"John Watson?"

He closed his eyes momentarily and cursed under his breath. He had always considered himself a decent bloke, but his luck had been mostly substandard. It figured he would have met someone who knew him in a pub, on a weekday, on the other side of London from where he worked.

"Do you remember me? It's Mike. Mike Stamford, from St. Barts," the chubby man approached him with a pleasant smile. "It's great seeing you again. How long has it been? I know, I got fat."

John flicked a look at the two girls sharing his table, noticing how the mood had quickly shifted. It looked like he wasn't going to score that night after all. Well, it had been a long shot anyway. These girls were clearly only after free drinks.

"Hi, Mike. Yes, of course I remember," he turned around and took the offered hand in a firm handshake. "It's been... almost eight years, I guess?"

The girls started to whisper to each other and soon excused themselves, taking John's beers with them. John barely gave them another look, told Mike not to worry about interrupting anything and asked him to sit down.

"So you work at St. Barts now?"

"Yeah, just started teaching a few months ago, I knew it wasn't supposed to be fun, but well," Mike sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Actually, it kind of is. They are bright young things, just like we were."

John nodded absently, eyes fixed on Mike's respectable suit, then down to his own plain, plaid shirt. They had studied together once, working side by side for the same goal, but now...

"Enough about me," Mike put down his glass, looking up at him with an expectant smile. "How about you? What do you do?"

XXX

"John,"

John looked up from the computer screen, eyes sunken behind the black thick-rimmed glasses.

"Seventh floor, Jeanette. Printer got jammed, again."

John let out a resigned sigh before rising from his seat, giving his knitted vest another tug, his company nametag another check and his hair another swipe of hand before heading out of the door. From there he turned left towards the elevator, next to the rest room. He pushed the up button, noting that the closest one would be the one on the right, currently heading down from the ninth floor. After waiting for another two minutes, the panel above the doors showed that the elevator has reached the basement. A soft 'ding' was heard, then the doors opened. John entered the empty elevator (of course it would have always been empty, nobody went to the basement). Even the servers weren't located down there where it was so damp and rather dingy for the building's standard. John was only so painfully aware that some computers were treated better than his entire department.

He pushed the button to the seventh floor, slunk to the corner and waited, hoping that it would be a smooth ride straight to the destination. It was fifteen minutes past three and he was really hoping to be able to get the new employee's workstation ready before five o'clock. At least he could take comfort in the fact that it was Thursday. Just one day, one more day, then he could properly transform the awkward conversation with Mike Stamford in to alcohol-soaked, fuzzy memory that might have or might have not happened at all.

Another soft 'ding' was heard, snapping John out of his daydream. Taking a quick glance at the mirror, he readjusted his slanted glasses and stepped out of the elevator, in to the low buzz of an open-office setting of Noah Industries, Marketing Department. From where he stood, he could see a small crowd bunching around the printer near the pillar, in the middle of the room. He approached a particularly tall brunette with a tight one-piece dress hugging her most delectable figure standing next to the printer, holding a bunch of paperwork looking worried. That would be Jeanette. Or not. It didn't matter because he already had his mind made up.

John worked his way to the centre of the crowd, stepping right next to her. She is taller than him, like most of women in England. He didn't mind. It had never stopped him before.

"Hi," he started, flashing his trusty '_I'm just a nice bloke with no grubby intentions towards your nether regions at all_' smile. The young lady turned around and beamed at him instantly. As always, worked like a charm.

"I'm John Watson from IT, if you could let me take a quick look at the printer, I'll get it back running in no time."

XXX

As always, Monday came a bit too soon to John's liking. Before he knew it, he was back sitting behind his desk, reviewing the monthly report he had crammed for all morning. He wondered why he bothered at all. He could have copy-pasted that thing from last month, and it would have still been legit. The same thing happened every month, with the paper-jammed printers, virus-infested workstations from porn sites, spam emails in the server, busted cables, tea-soaked keyboards, purging old workstation from departed employees and setting up the new one for new employees. It was just the same thing, happening in an endless loop. It was his life, his fate, to go through this utterly dull routine, because nothing ever happened to him.

"And this is the IT Department, for daily operation maintenance and hardware management,"

He sighed. That would be the junior HR staff's voice. Every beginning of the month, without fail, she would come escorting a few new employees as a part of company orientation. John never saw the point, because every person they shook hands with, they'd forget the name the instant they moved on to the next one. Also, and he couldn't stress this enough, _nobody_ came to IT Department office. The room was cramped, damp, smelled funny, and frankly, filthy. John couldn't really place the blame on the cleaners. With delicate computer parts scattered across every visible surface and people who notoriously disliked having their stuff touched or moved, the department quite properly earned their scorn.

"Ah, looks nice,"

That would be the new employee. He was just being polite. They always were, at least during the first few months.

"This is John Watson, supervisor, practically runs this place."

John let out a wry smile because it was mostly true. His negligent manager was hardly present in the office these days.

"Hi," he looked up and offered the new employee, a bright-looking young man, a quick handshake. "John Watson. And you are?"

"Jim Moriarty," the young man smiled pleasantly.

"He will be starting in the Software Development division today. Graduated with full marks from a most renowned college specializing in technology." the HR staff commends with starry eyes. Half a day in the office and he had scored at least an admirer already. Impressive.

"This is my first time working in an office. As fellow IT guys, I'm hoping you would show me the ropes, Mister Watson. Or can I call you John?" Jim flashed him the most disarming smile he had ever seen on a grown man. Before he knew it, he had given Jim the three things he normally would only share with a friend; the permission to call him by his most resented nickname (Johnny), his phone number and his prized _Darjeeling_. By the time they left, John thought back of the last several minutes, clamped his fingers over his forehead and started to laugh.

_Jim Moriarty_, he looked down at the name on his phone screen. The man would definitely make it big one day.

XXX

Molly Hooper, 19 years old, was currently looking at the most attractive man she had ever seen. It was fate, she knew it. Normally she would have stayed in that time of the night, reading some books or recounting the things she had learned from her morning class, making sure that her notes were perfect. But not that day. Of all the days she could have subbed for her friend's part time job as a shopkeeper, she had picked that day. The day a tall, dark stranger dressed entirely in black entered the shop with decisive steps, straight to the long coat section. Oh wasn't he dreamy. She wondered what was the colour of his eyes.

"I'll have this,"

She let out a rather undignified squeak as a dark long coat was dumped on the table in front of her. The tall dark stranger was now standing right in front of her. His eyes turned out to be grey and his face looked even more mesmerizing up-close. It was fascinating how he could have emanated so much power and confidence just by standing there looking vaguely annoyed.

"And this," a navy scarf, which she was fairly sure she hadn't seen him hold earlier, was added to the pile. With a brief glance at the scarf section, she noted that one of the scarves hanging on the same rack was still swaying lightly from the momentum. It was like the scarf had been very recently yanked off the hanger, except that he couldn't have made his way all the way there and obtained the scarf without her noticing.

Molly stole another glance at him while ringing his purchase. Her initial thought might be correct. There was something about this man. Most people would have given away more of their personal information given enough proximity, but it was like the harder she tried to read him, the more questions arose. For a starter, he had entered the shop dressed entirely too light considering the full-blown winter outside. The long-sleeved shirt and poly-wool trousers couldn't have sufficed against the freezing wind. He had just dropped a fourteen-hundred pound coat in front of her like it had been nothing, so he must have had money. Why would have he walked out of his house wearing so little? Why hadn't he been shivering at all? If he lived nearby, why hadn't she seen him before?

After confirming the purchase, he reached inside his pocket and handed her a bunch of notes. She could feel her friendly smile slip away. She had been hoping for a card. That way, at least she would have gotten a name out of him.

"Leave it," he suddenly said as she was about to wrap his coat in the shop's standard package box, suggesting that he was going to wear it directly. He gave a hurried nod at her tentative offer to snip the tags off both the coat and the scarf.

In a fit of momentary panic at the prospect of accidentally touching his fingers as she passed the clothes over, she had elbowed the book she had been reading off the counter. _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, A Study in Scarlet_. She had owned it for a good five years now and had reread it several times during the span of time. She had decided to bring it with her after a Hollywood movie adapting the story under the same title had been released the previous week. Watching it had made her feel a tad nostalgic.

Molly watched in trepidation as Tall Dark Grey Eyes knelt down to pick up the book. She wanted to thank him and apologize profusely for making him do it, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. She could tell that he was very interested in the book.

As he wordlessly handed the book over back to her, she bowed down and murmured her thanks timidly. His fingers felt impossibly warm, making her heart skip another beat.

"Um," she started, heartbeat racing, knowing that soon he would leave and she might never see him again. This could be her only chance.

"P-perhaps if y-y-you'd like-a cup of coffee-"

She looked up, feeling her shoulders sag in disappointment at the realization that he had been long gone. It wasn't until after she was preparing to leave she realized that her book was nowhere to be found.

XXX

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF FANS

_Chapter 1 of 10 - Khan_

Standard disclaimers apply.

Jim Moriarty did make it big. In less than a year after arriving at the Software Development division, he had made Supervisor, the title John had only earned after working for three years. He was famous for his brilliant mind, likeable personality and peculiarly flamboyant gait. Only eight months after Jim had joined the company, he had single-handedly fixed numerous flaws in the company's computer system, which had included but not limited to software documentation management, enterprise infrastructure system, coding standard protocols and most importantly the network security, which had become a serious issue among upper management after a particularly damaging hacker's attack on the company sales data and corporate website several months before. Thanks to his contributions on the problem, Jim was more often than not seen walking side by side with directors and shareholders, holding his trusty black, unmarked twelve-inch laptop, probably on their way to attend some confidential meetings that were way out of John's salary range.

Aside from his outstanding intellect and extremely well connections, Jim's personal life had also been gaining a lot of people's attention those days. While John himself had built up quite a reputation for his certain promiscuous ways, Jim had made up an entire new height for himself as the 'unattainable'. He had charmed his ways through departments and branch offices, males and females (which was understandable given he had always been rather ambiguous regarding his preference), yet nobody seemed to be able to gain his special interest. Jim had friends, colleagues, acquaintances, but he had never shared anything about his family. There seemed to be a slice of his persona that was constantly kept in the dark, which only served to make him more attractive, especially among the younger ladies.

"Well personally I don't find Jim very attractive," Sarah commented, taking in John's hand in a soft, warm grip that always reminded him of the first time they had met. Cliché as it had been, they had accidentally reached for the same cup during one of the day-long meetings coffee break. Sparks had flown, and there they were, on the over-hyped third date in a cosy Italian restaurant. "But I can understand why many of the girls are helplessly smitten with him. I think he has this... dark quality. I can't really explain, just... He is different and I think he knows it too. That's why he keeps people at arm's length. Maybe he fears rejection, or he doesn't want to be misunderstood."

John frowned. "For someone who claims to have no interest in him, you sure took your time to understand his psyche."

"Are you jealous?" Sarah grinned and leaned closer to him across the table. He took the invitation, titling his head to place a soft kiss on her lips. She opened her eyes slowly, her eyes warm with humour. It filled him with pride to know that he was the only one reflected in the large, beautiful blue eyes. "Anyway, if one of us were ever in danger of being snatched away by the perfect bachelor Jim Moriarty-"

"That's what they call him with these days?"

"That would be you, not me," Sarah finished with a quirk of lips.

John averted his eyes and started to laugh, incredulous. "God, I've had it with the rumour mills-t-they actually said that about me?"

Sarah nodded, propping her elbows on the table. "Aren't you, though, his _best_ friend?"

"We're just work colleagues. He asked me to assist him with his work in the branch offices several times-"

"Jim has never asked for help from anyone, especially concerning his work," Sarah tilted her head, looking vaguely amused. "From what I've heard, he mostly keeps everything to himself when he is working. He doesn't even let someone help him putting cables up."

"Yes he does. In fact, that's exactly what I've been assisting him with," John said, as-a-matter-of-factly. "I'm just helping him with the hardware stuff because he said it wasn't his area and he wasn't comfortable doing it alone without someone more experienced to make sure that-"

"Oh John," Sarah chuckled. "Have you met the men? He is _brilliant_. I'm sure he has handled much more complicated problems with higher risks than frying a PC or two."

"-I was going to say, he wanted to make sure that that the setup was up to the company's standard protocols-"

"Which he probably just co-wrote _himself_!"

John pressed his lips together, somewhat annoyed at the implication that Jim could have handled his job easily. The work wasn't his dream job, yes. He struggled everyday just to get his arse off the bed and prepare to leave for work. But he had also worked very hard to be barely adequate at what he did. Jim was a genius, especially gifted. He had seen the man work; he was inhumanely fast and efficient, could have probably come up with new clustering algorithms in his sleep. But that brilliant man had never once implied that he could have done John's job better. He had always been both amazed and grateful for that. And if she hadn't had something nice to say, Sarah shouldn't have mentioned it at all.

Setting his napkin aside, John picked up the check and walked away.

XXX

"Rough day?"

John looked up from his screen, only mildly surprised to find Jim standing next to him. He was alone in the room, finishing up on an urgent task. The rest of the staffs had long gone out for lunch. At times like this, occasionally Jim would come up with a couple of sandwiches, John would get the tea ready and they would spend at least fifteen minutes eating and talking about the most random stuff.

"Well," Jim took a sip of his tea. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say."

John hadn't meant to share his disastrous (possibly last date ever) with Sarah, but he didn't really have anyone else to talk about these things with. Despite what he had said, Jim was probably the closest thing to a best friend he never had.

"I probably shouldn't have mentioned it to you," he let out a wry chuckle before taking a bite of his ham sandwich. "Might have made you," He licked his lips. "-us, a bit uncomfortable."

Jim scoffed. "I'm not oblivious to the work of the rumour mills, Johnny. I know about everything they have ever made up of me. Have you heard that apparently I was a part of the child genius association raised by the government to eventually join MI6?"

John laughed, almost spitting out bits of half-chewed bread. "Christ, that was hilarious. How come I've never heard of that one before?"

"Because I made that up to make you smile again," Jim looked up at him and grinned unapologetically. "People will always talk, John. That's what they do. It's okay to listen sometimes, but never let them use it against you. For instance,"

John held his breath as Jim put down his sandwich and leaned very close to him, their faces almost touching.

"People would never stop speculating about us, no matter how much you deny it," the genius programmer whispered. "Might as well look at the silver lining. Get something out of it, take it to your advantage."

Jim leaned back, friendly smile fixed back in place. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

XXX

Two weeks later, John found himself on another road trip with Jim, not any less baffled about the shroud of mysteries which seemed to engulf his guise. The signs had been there all along, right from the moment when Jim had abruptly showed up in the morning, asking him rather desperately for an assistance with the new in-house program installation at a branch marketing office in Central London.

"This is the project for Google Maps integration with the marketing department's brand locator," John had exclaimed earlier during the preparations. "I thought this was going to take three months to get this done?"

Jim had scrunched up his face in a grimace. "_Three whole months_? What was I building, a satellite launch pad?"

John hadn't exactly been counting, but it was the fifth time he had been out together with Jim on a job in which he was pretty sure his assistance wasn't really necessary. The first time Jim had reasoned not to have sufficient knowledge regarding the company's hardware setting protocols. The second and third time had been fine, understandable. John probably wouldn't have batted an eye had it been anyone else but someone who had just implied that he could have built a satellite launcher in three months. Surely Jim had had the procedures memorized by now; or even had come up with better, more efficient way. It was his current running pattern. Jim Moriarty, the man who fixed everything.

Reclining his seat back a few degrees, John closed his eyes and tried to relax, Very Best of Bee Gees album playing in the background. Wherever Jim went, there always seemed to be a pair of black earphones slung around his neck. There had been a lot of conjectures regarding his musical preference, but nobody even got to see what sort of portable music player he kept inside his pocket let alone saw the content of his _playlist_. Being the public-appointed best friend, John had had not a small number a people asking him what sort of music Jim listened to. Every single time John would have rolled his eyes, pressed his lips together and shrugged. He had never (and hadn't had any intention to) looked at Jim's music player, and every time they went together with Jim's car, this same album would be playing on repeat. He honestly couldn't tell if Jim genuinely liked it or if it had come with the company car and he couldn't have been bothered to switch it.

"The weather is nice today," John started conversationally. Jim had looked a bit tense that day, perhaps he could use someone to talk to.

"Yes, yes, very nice indeed," Jim replied rather grouchily. John looked away and took a deep breath. Jim had never acted like this before, something really bad must have happened to him.

John shifted in his seat nervously. Jim was steadily increasing his speed, and seemed to be venturing out of their intended route. John hadn't been paying attention before, but now he realized that Jim had long bypassed their destination and continued to head east.

"Jim, I think we should turn back," he said carefully, not wanting to provoke the other man any further.

Jim's only respond was a low grunt. The road was straight and mostly empty, but even an empty road would have been a hazard if Jim continued to pick up the speed.

"Where are we going exactly?" He tried again. Jim didn't respond this time, and much to John's horror, occasionally closed his eyes and nodded his head to the tune of '_Too Much Heaven_'.

"Jim, did something-" John swallowed. His throat felt dry, his heart raced. "Is something wrong?"

Jim heeled the brake, abruptly stopping the car. Even with the seatbelt fastened, John's breath was knocked out of his lung from the impact.

"What the fuck, Jim?!" John snapped at him with a spiteful glare. "Were you trying to kill both of us?! What if there were another car right behind us?!"

Jim remained silent, frown deepened.

"Jim?"

As John raised his hand to touch the other man's shoulder, Jim suddenly straightened his back and kick-started the engine. A loud roaring noise was heard, then they were leaping forward. John wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't; not with the way his whole body was shook and turned along with the wild movements of the car.

"Jim, stop it!" He snarled. It fell on a deaf ear.

"For the love of G-" He clamped his eyes shut at a particularly rough jerking movement as the car narrowly avoided colliding head-on to a bark of tree. "JIM STOP THE CAR!"

The car spun as it changed direction before finally getting back on the road track. Then it bounded straight forward with rapidly increasing speed. John braced himself and grappled around for something to hoist himself up. Jim made a turn in to a lake park area. Taking advantage of the slowing car, John made a grab at the steering wheel, forcing it to stay straight.

"Jim, I'm not fucking around, you need to _stop the car right now_!"

When John finally managed to wrestle Jim away and hit the brake, they were about two seconds away from crashing into the iron fences.

"Why?" John could feel the rage furled back inside his chest when he heard Jim's voice coming from his side. Jim was still as composed as ever, even though John could barely feel his feet at the moment.

"Why indeed!" John unbuckled his seatbelt hurriedly and stepped out of the car.

"Johnny!" Jim followed him.

"Don't-!" John pulled away as he felt Jim grabbing his shoulder.

"Why did you ask me that?!" Jim howled.

"I don't need this right now," John turned around and started to walk away.

"Don't you get it, Johnny?" Jim quickly reclaimed his grasp around John's wrist. "You don't get to walk away from me. Not unless I allow you to."

John stared at him, eyes wide in astonishment. Jim's face contorted in anger he almost looked like an entirely different person, making John shiver. Sarah had been right. There was something about Jim, a dark attribute that separated him from the rest. Nobody knew for sure what he was thinking about, not one preference he revealed for anyone to see.

John tried to move his hand only to find it completely stuck. The man gripped like an iron shackle.

"Let me go, Jim."

"Why did you ask me if something was wrong?!" Jim continued to shout at him, his eyes wild. John looked up at him in bewilderment. He didn't understand how the simple question had set the other man off at the first place.

"I was just-"

"There is _nothing_ wrong with me!"

"Yes, there is!" John twisted his arm and grabbed Jim's wrist, dragging it up in front of his face. "_This!_ This is what's wrong with you! You've got _everything_! You are brilliant, people like you, your job probably pays much better than mine! So what if you were different?! Big fucking deal! In your case it only means that you are better, there should be no reason for you to ever feel insecure!"

Jim stared at him, unblinking. John could tell that he had caught him by surprise.

"I suppose you're right. There is nothing wrong with you," John spat out as he pulled his hand away. "You almost got us killed for nothing at all. I hope that made you feel all better."

He expected Jim to make another grab at him as he started to walk away, but Jim just stood there with his face down, motionless. Indignant, John ignored him and continued to backtrack his way to the main street, hoping to catch a bus. A few steps later, he could hear the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

XXX

"You should become a doctor," Jim remarked without opening his eyes from the passenger seat.

"I was going to," John replied evenly, keeping his eyes his on the street as he drove. _Massachusetts_ playing in the background. "Then my father had a heart attack. Money was tight to begin with, it was no longer possible to support my studies."

"Money problems," Jim snorted. "How pedestrian of you, Johnny."

"Money wasn't the only issue," John sighed. "I could have joined the army, but I didn't. I took crash computer courses instead while working part-time jobs. Thought it would have been easier on my mother. She just lost her husband. Sending her only son off to the war... I didn't want to make her carry the burden of my choice."

"Let me guess, you weren't very good at your studies either," Jim drawled. "You were afraid, weren't you, Johnny? Even though becoming a doctor was-no, has been your only passion."

"You are a natural caretaker, you would have become a doctor who genuinely cares for his patients, and to top it off," Jim took the wet cloth off his eyes, leaning forward and stretching his neck. "You've always enjoyed a good thrill. I saw it in your eyes during our little... _brawl_ earlier. You practically got off on it."

"I suppose I would have thrived in Iraq," John let out a wry chuckle.

"You could have led a life of full-time excitement and instead here you are... being _boring_."

John merely quirked up an eyebrow and kept driving.

At some point of the trip, Jim suddenly turned off the music player.

"Johnny, would you like to listen to a story?"

"Fine," John threw him a brief glance. Jim had his eyes closed again, probably still feeling a bit ill.

"This is a story of Sir Khan; the ruler, the commander, the man with extraordinary abilities far beyond the ordinaries."

John's mouth curled up in a smile. "Sounds interesting."

"Good for you, Johnny. Sir Khan, though, didn't share your sentiment. He was by far the cleverest, strongest, most gifted person in the whole Kingdom. It started when he was very young. He realized that he could never blend in with the rest of the commoners. He could never find an opponent worthy of his brilliance. Even the ones who seemed particularly bright at first always turned out to be disappointingly predictable. That was why he decided to embark on a journey to find someone who wouldn't bore him to tears."

"During his journey to find a worthy opponent, Sir Khan moved a lot from one kingdom to another. Each time he moved in, each king would welcome him like his own son, knowing that he could win his battle for him. He found every one of them repulsive, greedy and frustratingly mundane. There hadn't been one warrior in their lands worthy of Sir Khan's attention. They were... all... _worthless_."

John could feel his hands tightened around the steering wheel. He wondered if Jim was still talking about himself.

"Even in a seemingly large kingdom with countless of treasures, the people were all the same. They led dull, ordinary lives, lacked aspirations and didn't even want to try to their full potential. The ones who talked big usually turned out to be the one with the least faculty. They were the _worst_. Every time Sir Khan met one of those, he would slay them without mercy."

"The kings who only coveted power, treasure and women; the ministers who would wag their tails at whoever held the biggest piece of steak; the incompetent knights who only relied on their weapons-Sir Khan would unreservedly stab his big sword through their chests and burn the _hearts_ out of them."

"Um," John cleared his throat, swallowing nervously. "I thought this was supposed to be a story about a hero?"

"Heroes, John? Really?" Jim made a gagging sound. "What could be more predictable, weaker than someone from the side of the angels? Would there even be any significance to a hero without the presence of a mighty villain?"

John didn't answer, biting his lower lip.

"Villains make the story, Johnny. They are in control," Jim sighed in content. It seemed that telling the story had done a good deal of relief in his system.

"Most people like heroes, though."

"Like I said, most people are dull."

John shrugged absently. The car was currently heading towards a bridge, running at sixty-miles an hour.

"Huh?" John narrowed his eyes at the sight of a large van on the same lane, coming from the other side of the bridge. "Oh for God's sake..." He signalled the vehicle to move back to its respectful lane. It didn't respond, and was rapidly moving to his direction.

"What the-" John was forced to move the car to the opposite lane to avoid collision. Then suddenly at one point, the van started to wobble from side to side, seemingly uncontrollable. John's first instinct was to turn to Jim, making sure that his seatbelt was fastened.

"JIM!" He roared, "BRACE!"

The van was coming on to them like a wild animal. It hit the side of the car, sending it spinning towards the edge of the bridge, through the sidewalk, crushing the stone barrier. John kept his eyes closed the whole time, huddled against the airbag. When he thought that the worst part was over, the second collision came.

XXX

John woke up to the sensation of drifting. His heart was still racing, his limbs trembling, his head aching. He struggled with his memory for a few seconds, before looking down at his legs to find it immersed in water.

"Oh God," his eyes went wide. He quickly turned to his side to find Jim still fastened to his seat, bent over the airbag, motionless. "Oh _God_."

In a full realization that the car was sinking, John knew that he had to get both of them out of the car before it drowned. It took him four tries to get his hand steady enough to unbuckle the seatbelt. Opening the door would cause the car to sink faster, so he rolled both window from his and Jim's side down instead before crawling out.

The car was almost completely submerged when he swam around the car and reached Jim. The man was still unconscious. John prayed he would stay that way until after he managed to get both of them to safety. He didn't think he had the strength to swim while dragging a struggling, panicking man.

John took in a big gulp of air before squeezing his upper body through the small opening. The water had almost reached Jim's neck level. John reached his hands under the airbag, trying to locate the buckle. In retrospect, perhaps he should have done it while he had still been inside. The position and the water made it really hard for him to get the seatbelt off.

Jim made a low groaning sound, head lolling to the side. He was stirred awake but didn't seem to be fully aware of his surroundings yet.

"It's okay, Jim, I've got you," John told him regardless. "Just hang on a little longer."

But the car was sinking fast, with both windows open. Even if he managed to get the seatbelt off, with this level of water, John wasn't sure if he had enough strength to manoeuvre Jim out of the car.

_God,_ he could feel his shoulders trembling at the realization as he grappled uselessly at the buckle. _God, please let me live._

When John felt himself being bodily shoved in to the car by some unknown force, he thought that it would be the end of his short life after all. Bending over the inflated airbag horizontally, he could hear a commanding baritone voice telling him to stay still. He raised both hands to cover his head. A moment later, he could feel a movement from under the car. A rough upward jerking movement, then suddenly the water level lowered.

The car was being lifted, he was only too pleased to note. He didn't even care how the rescue team with heavy machinery had gotten there so fast. They were being saved, they were going to live.

John lowered his arms, closing his eyes, sagging in relief. He could feel the car move, smoother now, mostly out of the water. After a few minutes, the car hit something solid, like a wall; they had probably reached the side of the river. When he tried to stand up, suddenly the car jerked to the side, causing him to bump his head on the car's ceiling. He quickly lowered his head again, looking out of the open window. The car was being hauled out of the water, on to the land.

After the car made its last drop on the ground, John pulled on the door handle. The remaining water inside the car did the rest of the job, pushing the door open. Ignoring the dull aches throughout his body, John dragged himself out, taking a few moments just to lay on his back, breathing heavily, shielding his eyes from the mid-noon sun.

John stiffened again as he recognized a movement from the corner of his eyes. Probably the paramedics. He had to tell them that Jim was still inside the car and probably needed immediate medical attention.

"Please-" he croaked out. "My friend-he is still inside-"

The movement stopped.

John forced himself to sit up. He was still seeing spots from the sun. A tall man dressed in black was standing in front of him.

"Please-"

"Your friend is fine," the man said. It was the same baritone voice he had heard earlier. "I have notified the authorities. They should be here before long."

"Thank you," John clamped a hand over his eyes, trying to blink the spots out so he could see clearly. When he opened his eyes again, the man was gone. He turned back towards to the wreckage of a car. Jim was standing next to the open door, his eyes wide and his mouth half-opened.

"Jim," he gasped out, relieved. "Are you okay?"

Jim continued to stare to the empty spot where the mysterious man had stood earlier.

"Oh, Johnny," his lips slowly curled up in to a manic grin. "I've never been better."

XXX

TBC


End file.
